


Habits

by Hanatamago2204 (Bambi_Eyes)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambi_Eyes/pseuds/Hanatamago2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daan runs a flower shop. He also has a strange habit. He likes to check on the flowers someone bought in his shop. One day, he meets a lovely young woman, whose smile captivates him. And of course, he will pick up his habit and go look for her...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paladinquen (postmodern_robot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmodern_robot/gifts).



Some habits die hard. Daan knows this like no one else. As a child, he had the habit to kiss his stuffed animals before going to sleep and he found it unfair when not everyone got a kiss. It took him a few months before he could stop it. He sometimes still did it, three years later. 

As a teenager, he picked up the habit of smoking, when his parents became more busy with work and he didn’t have their watching eyes on himself all the time. Now he wishes he didn’t have that habit. 

But habits die hard. Just like his current habit. 

Daan owns a flower shop now, quite a poplar one. He is well-known for his beautiful arrangements for weddings and funerals, the perfectly themed bouquets and the wonderfully healthy flowers that he sells. Many people stop by his shop every week, buying or just looking. But they are not the only ones that look. 

Once he closes his shop, Daan likes to go on a run. It’s also a habit that he acquired over the years, but it’s not a bad habit. But on the runs, he likes to check on the flowers that he sold that week or day. It seemed harmless, but it had somehow taken over his schedule and it made him feel a little anxious when he couldn’t keep up with his favourite flowers. 

The habit had started when one of his closer friends had bought a bouquet and Daan had not deemed the woman capable of tending to the flowers, since she was quite a rowdy person, who had used the occasional pan or pot as her weapon. 

So, on his next run, he had chosen to casually pass by her house, hoping to catch a glimpse of the bouquet. He had been in luck, they had been sitting on the kitchen table and the windows had not been blinded by curtains. The flowers had also been lucky, because they looked fine and healthy and not too damaged. 

From that day on, he would ‘casually’ pass by the houses of the people that had bought flowers. Over the course of two years, he had remembered where a big part of the community lived and knew where most of his flowers went after they had been bought. 

Of course, he could not know exactly everyone and everyone’s home, so it happened that he simply could not check on the flowers, even if he wanted. 

The current customer was one of those people. 

It was a young woman, quite long hair that was kept in messy pig tails, glasses on her nose and a cute blush on her cheeks from the summer temperatures. She took home a small arrangement, an overall colourful theme. It was one of Daan’s favourites and he was somewhat sad to see them go without knowing where they were heading off to. 

But, he reasoned while he cleaned up for the day, you couldn’t know everything. Something kept bugging him about it throughout the weekend, however, and on Monday morning he was in a bad mood. His shop opened later on Mondays, so that he would have some time to do some grocery shopping and some administration tasks that he could not finish on Sundays. 

As he walked towards the Albert Heijn, he noticed a small house that had the window opened. Naturally curious, he peeked into the living room. A soft looking off-white sofa, a dark brown salon table, nothing special so far. Until he noticed the little flower arrangement sitting on top of that table. 

A smile appeared on his face. The woman that suddenly walked into that living room confirmed his suspicion and Daan gladly made his way to the supermarket, mood improved. 

For the rest of the day, he was delighted and even whistled a tune along to the song on the radio. One of his customers asked if he was in love, to which he laughed softly and denied.

After closing the shop, he picked up his habit again and tied his running shoes around his feet. He selected his favourite song and was out the door, heading towards the market. And again, he would casually drop by the house that now harboured his flowers. He’d stretch while looking to his left, inspecting the precious plants as well as he could. 

But it seemed that luck was not on his side today, the curtains were closed and he could not see inside. Grumbling under his breath and skipping to the next song, he continued to run and completely forgot to check on the flowers that Mrs Bakker had bought today. 

The next day, he didn’t allow himself to head towards the same direction again, so there was no way to check on the arrangement that day either. 

Wednesday the rain came pouring down with bucket loads at the same time and he decided with great annoyance that he could not go out in this weather and not get sick. 

So, it took him until Thursday before he could see the flowers again. They had been moved to the windowsill as the young woman was cleaning the coffee table and vacuuming the floor, he noticed as he pulled his left leg towards his behind. He nearly lost his balance and switched leg, looking to the left again. 

They seemed fine. No hanging heads, no petals that had fallen down. The flowers were blooming more than when he had sold them, which was always a good sign. 

The woman looked up and cocked her head at him. Daan send her a smile and then continued onwards, his head still with the flowers. 

Before he knew it, the weekend was at his door, begging to be let in. Saturdays were the busiest of all days and Daan never ran on them, because he had lots of cleaning to do. He also planned the bouquets on that evening, so that he could make them on Sundays. The store needed to be ready on Monday. 

To his surprise, an unexpected customer showed up, this time with her hair in a ponytail and sunglasses on. She sent him a soft smile as she shoved them up into her hair, messing it up a little. 

“Hello,” she greeted with a gentle voice that pleased him immediately. “I would like to have a flower bouquet.” Daan helped her with little words, thoughts occupied with the way her face seemed to light up when she smiled at him softly. 

The woman explained that the flowers were for her mother, who was coming over from Canada for a few weeks. He dared to ask whether she was from Canada too, then and she laughed prettily. 

“Yes, I am. I thought you would have noticed that I am not from the Netherlands by my accent.” He shrugged and wrapped clear foil around the bouquet, before handing it to her. 

“But yes, I lived in Canada until a year ago. Somehow this little country seemed more interesting than the vastness of Canada, can you imagine?” She laughed again and took the flowers from him. 

“Truth is; I have always been interested in the country. It started when I saw the speed skaters at the Olympics a few years ago. They were so great, so I wondered what their country must be like. In the end, I somehow managed to land a job here and I moved.” Daan smiled at her. 

“Must have been a long journey then,” he commented and rested against the counter. 

“Yes, kind of. My family was quite shocked when I told them I’d be moving, especially my brother. He moved to America not long after, though.” She giggled. “But I like it here so far. Everyone is friendly. And also straightforward, but I like that. You are all so tall, though!” He chuckled and nodded. 

“Yeah, we ain’t the smallest people.” 

“Oh, but look at the time! I’ve been blabbering again and I’ll miss my train at this rate.” Daan swallowed his comment about how NS never arrived on time and wished her a safe trip. 

The rest of the day and most of Sunday was spent in a haze, in which he could only think about how the young woman had ended up here, of all places. He really couldn’t understand it, but he let her be. He was curious what her experiences were so far, how she had started her journey to end up here, in Groningen. 

So, against his own rules, he headed out for a run on Sunday afternoon and stopped in front of her house again. He noticed another woman in the house, who seemed a little older than his own mother, with grey hair and a big smile on her face. 

He stood still and stretched for a little longer than normal. Left leg, right leg. Left leg again. He just started on his arms when the door opened and the two women walked out of the house. 

“Oh!” He heard and he turned around. 

“Hello,” Daan greeted her. She blushed and he felt his stomach do a strange flip. “I didn’t know you lived here,” he lied. 

“Yeah, it’s cosy, isn’t it? Gezellig, as you say.” A smile appeared at her funny accent and he nodded. “This is my mother,” she said and gestured to the woman behind her. Her mother was curious, and she offered him her hand. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Daan said as he shook it. “I hope you like the Netherlands so far.” The older woman nodded and then looked to her daughter.

“And where do you know this handsome man from,” she asked, making both of them flush a little.  
“He is the man that owns the flower shop that I bought your flowers from.” The older woman nodded again and thanked Daan for the bouquet. 

“They are very lovely,” she said. “But, Madelaine, we have to get going soon. We don’t want to impose of the man’s time.” Madelaine flushed again and agreed with her mother and the three parted ways. 

Daan mused over their meeting for the rest of his run. He was glad that he had learned her name and was sure to remember it when he would see her again. A part of him hoped that it would happen soon. 

That night, as he smoked his last cigarette for that day, Daan mused a little about life. He wondered how Madelaine dealt with being alone, far away from her family. For him, family was a blessing and a curse at the same time. He loved his siblings and his mother dearly, but sometimes all three of them got too nosy. 

They wanted to know everything. How many customers he had, what kind of flowers he sold, whether he ate enough, who he talked to, if he had met any nice women (or men, his sister would add) whether his bunny-themed collection had grown… Sometimes, they gave him a headache. 

He thanked the gods that his siblings had decided to move further away. Henri now worked for a bank in Luxembourg and lived a good life, Emma worked in a small patisserie in Antwerp. His mother still lived in the Netherlands, but she didn’t travel a lot and rather stayed in Leiden. The distance didn’t stop them from calling him every now and then to ‘catch up’, as they called it. Daan just thought it was more checking on his personal situations than catching up. 

But even though they could all be very annoying, he didn’t want to trade them in for anything. He never wanted them to leave, would miss it if they didn’t call every now and then. It made him curious how Madelaine felt and whether she was lonely. 

Sure, there were lots of communication media these days and Skype was a very convenient way of talking to each other. But even though all these ways existed, nothing beat a real hug or a day out together, face to face. 

Daan felt sorry for her. Even though he really didn’t know anything about her, he felt sorry for her. Maybe he should have been nicer, offered her to come over for coffee… Surprised by his own thoughts – he wasn’t really a social type that offered his home and coffee to anyone – he decided that it was time to finish the cursed cigarette and head to bed. 

*** 

The next few days passed like normal. He worked, cleaned, sketched and bound bouquets. He went to the market and bought new groceries. On Sunday, he felt bored out of his mind. Inspiration didn’t come this weekend, so he decided that it was time for a change of scenery. 

Taking his sketchbook and some pencils, he headed out into town and settled into one of the little cafés that he had yet to check out. The city seemed to be buzzing with people today, pairs walked around while holding hands, children ran from store to store and begged their parents to buy them something. Some were eating ice cream; others were just looking at the ware in the windows. Enough things that he could draw and sketch. 

Yet every time he started on someone, somehow Madelaine ended up smiling at him from the paper. Frustrated, he gave up and just watched the people scurry by, sipping his coffee and nibbling on the cake that he had allowed himself to order. 

Daan didn’t understand why he kept drawing her. It was like his pencils were cursed, doing things of their own will. Daan had tried starting with a flower. But the only thing that ended up on the paper, was Madelaine with said flower in her hair, or her hands. At some point, he had wanted to throw the damn book out of the window. He was sure the people around him would not like such an outburst though. 

In the end, he didn’t draw anything. After paying for his order and wandering around town, he walked towards the house where Madelaine lived and looked in through windows again. No one was home and he felt a sense of disappointment. 

Just when he rounded the corner, back towards his own house, he saw someone familiar. It turned out to be Madelaine’s mother. She waved at him and then crossed the road. 

“You’re the man with the flowers, right?” She didn’t even wait until he nodded, she just talked on. “Listen, I’ve known my fair share of men. Be careful with her. She’s my precious daughter and I don’t want her to be harmed or hurt, alright?” Daan could just blink at her, then nod. The woman patted his shoulder and walked away after saying goodbye. 

This surely had to be one of the weirdest encounters he had had in his life. 

The next morning, he ran into Madelaine in the supermarket and he stopped her without thinking twice about it. She smiled sweetly at him. 

“Good morning! Here for the groceries?” It seemed like someone had just re-started his brain. Something had taken away his ability to speak, so he nodded. “I heard you ran into my mother yesterday. I hope she didn’t say anything weird?” He shook his head and cursed himself for his inability to speak.

“Well, that’s good then. She seemed to think you were my boyfriend or something. Don’t know where she got that idea,” Madelaine laughed, but she blushed nervously while she spoke. 

“I don’t know either. I didn’t even tell her my name,” he said, finally able to form words. Madelaine smiled.  
“Maybe, but your store is called Daan’s bloemen, I suppose you’re called Daan then.” He wanted to hit himself. 

“Yeah…” It came out more sheepish than he was used to. Normally he was easier with women, more laid back. Not as nervous as he was now. 

“Well, I have to get going. Work starts in a while, and I don’t want to be late again.” Her words pulled him out of his musing and they bid each other goodbye. For the next few hours, he felt like he was flirting. 

At the end of the day, he discovered in horror that he had been thinking about Madelaine all day again. While drinking his cup of coffee at eight ‘o clock, he pinched his nose and tried his best to think about something else, which failed. 

The television offered no relief either and Daan fled to his bed shortly after nine, fed up with himself and the world. Never had he felt this way and it scared him in a way. He was used to the usual crushes, the little bits of fluttering in his chest and the occasional thought about said crush. 

But Madelaine had been in his head since they had talked the second time she had walked into his store. She had told him nothing interesting. Showed him little about herself. She wasn’t breathtakingly gorgeous – okay, maybe in her own way she was – but somehow, she kept popping up. The soft smile, the gleam of her eyes...

He was interested in her, genuinely interested. He wanted to know about her childhood, her favourite food, the habits she had. What she looked like when she was upset, when she was moping. He wanted to get to know every side of her that she would let him see. 

The week went by agonisingly slow and Daan had to keep himself from running through Madelaine’s neighbourhood all the time. A part of him softly whispered to him that he should just ring her doorbell and invite her for coffee, ask her how her day was going. But he’d never dare to do that. She wouldn’t like that, he told himself. 

So he was more than happy when he saw her waiting for the bus on Sunday afternoon.  
“Hello,” she said when she saw him, pulling out one ear plug. “It’s a nice day for travelling, isn’t it?” Daan nodded and looked around.  
“Where are you headed?” She didn’t seem to be going on a longer trip, since she didn’t carry a bag or suit case with her.

“Oh, just going to visit a friend of mine. They invited me over for coffee.” He nodded and the conversation fell silent, leaving behind an awkward feeling for him. 

“I take you’re going grocery shopping again,” Madelaine asked with a soft laugh. Another nod.  
“I don’t have the time to do it throughout the week. Too much work. But that’s okay.” 

The bus appeared in the distance and Madelaine’s soft smile died a little.  
“Well, I have to get going…” Daan hummed.  
“Yes, seems like you do.” Somehow he felt like neither of them wanted to say goodbye. “Do you – Do you perhaps want to get some coffee next weekend,” he suddenly asked, surprising himself. Madelaine looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Eh. Sure? I wouldn’t mind. We can go next Sunday in the morning. Is 11 ‘o clock okay?” Daan didn’t really have the time to answer with words, so he nodded again while the bus driver opened the doors. Madelaine stepped into the vehicle and checked in. When she sat, she waved at him as he watched her drive away. He had a date, he realised a little too late. A date with Madelaine.


End file.
